


Grind

by iimnotokay



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iimnotokay/pseuds/iimnotokay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deidara is a starving artist, literally. Can Sakura, the new big shot gallery owner in town, come around to save his piggy bank and more? Something more than an artist/boss friendship is about to ensue. Will change to M for future lemon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He tapped on the lit cigarette. One. Two. Three. The art gallery prohibited smoking inside, so he was left hovering over a railing, kicking his feet against the metal pillars blocking him from utter freedom. God, he wanted a drink with his good friend Jack Daniel. Captain Morgan could join, too. Hell, the threesome could party the whole night away in the safety of his shitty apartment in the bad part of town.

He didn't particularly mind living in a bad area. The people ignored him, and he reciprocated their actions. Drugs were easy to find. Drinking at any time of the day was considered normal, and who didn't smoke at least a pack a day? He was more than comfortable with making ends meet at his shit job, but the problem was that just that: he wasn't making ends meet. His drinking and smoking habit had done a number on his bank account, and his piggy bank was looking more and more like a starved dog as the months progressed. Working at a liquor store at first proved to be a great way to get some discounted booze, but the blonde soon was buying more than he was making. Not to mention his art supplies were milking him dry. The price of paints and brushes and clay and canvas was inflated enough to make any artist sick. If he began selling his work, it would be a different story. But, alas.

It wasn't as if people didn't like his work. People adored his work. The problem was with letting them go. And stopping himself from threatening them out of his studio with a knife. Deidera wasn't particularly antisocial; he just didn't enjoy the company of others. Or left that they understood him. Because they didn't, and they sure as hell never would.

He heard steps to the left of him, catching a glimpse of blood red out of the corner of his eye.

"Thanks for coming," Muttered the newcomer. Deidera mumbled some vowels in reply. His friend knew that he hated going out amongst those he considered 'normal', and that his mumbles were sincere and true. The two sighed. "Why don't you come back in? It's fucking cold out here." Deidera shrugged in reply.

"I don't mind." He exhaled smoke. He wished he could breathe fire across the whole fucking town. Run away with nothing but smoke and cries following him. The cold felt good against his skin; it was something he was accustomed to and welcomed with open arms.

"Come inside and we'll go to the bar after the exhibit. Drinks on me." Sasori knew exactly how to work his stubborn friend. "Smoking is allowed in the bar, I might add." Deidera couldn't refuse at this point. He threw the cigarette on the floor and followed his friend back inside, feeling his scruff coming back in. He needed a shave. And a shower. It was obvious he didn't belong with the artsy crowd gathered around Sasori's master pieces; the floor was littered with suits, dresses, lace, diamonds, pearls and cuffs all around. He was on the verge of an epileptic seizure with the reflections bouncing off the many jewels worn by high strung women.

Paintings of countless colors flashed on the white walls, dancing among the colorless interior of the building. It resembled an insane asylum: white walls, while ceilings, white floors. White steps. White doors. The canvases strapped to the walls were the only patients at the mental house, staying there for who knows how long. Trapped, away from the creator and anyone who ever truly loved it. It made Deidera sick.

The real exhibit of the night were the multiple sculptures done by Sasori, if one could truly call them that. His pieces moved and lived like all those who set eyes on them. The eyes followed the onlooker from one end of the room to the other. The ears overheard every conversation spoken in the building. They all made the visitors uncomfortable, and Sasori wanted it just that way. Grotesque animal-human hybrids were sprawled all over the grounds, each given a name and a kiss on the forehead to wish it luck. Deidera didn't even want to know how much each one would be sold for, and how easily the croaking crowd would throw their money away to be able to tell all their bought friends how they owned a Sasori original sculpture, and just how lovely it complimented their million dollar chandelier which complimented their special molding and special wooden flooring and diamond-encrusted toilets and garbage cans and ice dispensers. It all made Deidera sick. The possessions of the rich were pointless and embarrassing. One day our great-great-great-great grandchildren would look at their ancestor's worldly possessions with absolute confusion and disgust. What point did all of the bullshit serve?

"Did you see the owner of this place?" Enquired his red headed fuck of a friend.

"No. Why, un?" He gave up long ago on trying to fix his speech impediment. Girls at the bar found it charming, and if it got him laid every now and then, it was alright with him.

"She's a looker. Needs to get laid, but a looker." He spoke as he glared at a tipsy woman leaning out to grope a sculpture. Her husband/father/sugar daddy/son/fuck buddy/friend/insert other stopped her before Sasori could claw her eyes out and feed them to his piece of work with absolute glee.

"Can we leave? I need a drink. Badly, un"

"I'll drive." Sasori spoke, turning on his heel to head out. He stopped suddenly when a woman with pink hair tapped him lightly on the shoulder and gave him a glistening smile.

"Sasori! So glad you were able to make it. I think tonight has proven to be successful so far, and if there's any potential buyers, I'll be sure to let you know." The woman looked at the artist with bright eyes and a wide grin. Deidera couldn't help but notice the puffiness under her eyes and the dark bags beginning to form. She clearly had not applied enough cover-up in the morning.

"I appreciate it, Sakura. Call if you need me, my friend Deidara and I are heading out to get a drink or two. You look like you need one, yourself. Don't hesitate to drop on by." Sasori spoke out of politeness, kissing the owner once, twice on the cheek and signaling Deidara to follow him out. The woman mentioned something about seeing her boyfriend after the show was over, but neither of them payed much attention to her small, polite words. They were going to get smashed, and the company of an extra body made no difference to them.

/

Two hours at the bar later, and Deidara was on his sixth cigarette, at least as far as Sasori knew. The bartender had knowingly left a bottle of Jack in front of the two, recognizing their faces and their drinking capabilities.

"You need to get out of that shit apartment. It's doing nothing for you." The red head instigated the same old argument again.

"I'll be on the streets soon. I don't have a career, I have a shit job where I spend more than I make, un. I have no options."

"Bullshit. Sell something. You turn down people all the fucking time, and for what? To keep your apartment cluttered with paintings and sculptures you get sick of seeing? Let someone else's eyes get sick of seeing them every damn day. Fleeting beauty my ass. Some of your pieces have been cooped up in your room for years now. Let them go." Deidara thought of his friend's words for a moment. It wasn't a matter of just getting rid of them. He needed to find a home for each piece, making sure the owner would love and care for it just as he had for weeks and months and however long it took him to finish the damn thing. He didn't want some rich bitch stealing his work to show off to her fake friends who gives a fuck about the thickness of the strokes or the complimentary colors used to bring out the highlights or the eyes or the flesh or the sunlight poking through a cloud or tree or mountain. People were stupid, and Deidara hated stupid fucking people.

"I want to give it to someone who knows what I'm trying to say. And appreciates colors, un. Fuckers now a days know shit about color. Have a fucking neon pink dot on a white canvas and they call it genius."

"You just need a steady client. Or two. Who knows something about art. Put your shit in a gallery. Really get noticed. And sell. Easy." Sasori spoke as Deidara lit another cigarette. The kids lungs must be ready to give out, he thought.

The friends were interrupted by a body invading their personal space. Everyone else at the bar stayed at least three seats away from the pair, but the new comer had sit down right next to Deidara, without even bothering to look up at her neighbors. Her knuckles rapped on the wooden bar.

"Diet coke and rum, please." The bartender nodded and got to work. The woman threw a twenty his way and he smiled appreciatively. Sasori and Deidara had a feeling she was going to be there awhile. They made eye contact for a moment before returning their attention back to the hooded woman. Their eyes widened as her hood dropped to reveal thick strands of bright pink hair.

"Sakura?" Sasori breathed. The woman turned, glaring at first, only to have her expression melt to a surprised and slightly embarrassed look on her face.

"Oh. Hi guys." She replied with a slight smile before turning to her drink and downing it. "Great show tonight. Lots of happy, loaded guests. And happy, loaded guests means a happy wallet for me and you." She spoke winking at Sasori.

"Didn't you say you were seeing your boyfriend or something?" Sasori questioned, a bit confused. Sakura's eyes rolled.

"Fuck him." She uttered, swishing the ice in her glass around, once, twice, three times.

"I'll drink to that," Deidara muttered, taking a swig of the Jack still sitting in front of the pair. Sakura nodded in agreement. "But aren't you a little... Young? To be in a place like this?" The woman was petite and looked tired as hell. She seemed to wear the innocence of a seven year old on her expression, and her hands and limbs were constantly moving, tapping or jumping from place to place.

"No. Gunna card me or something?" She replied, signaling the bartender for a refill. Deidara did not, in fact, want to card her at all. She looked like she could down right knock him out, while proceeding to eat his liver and appendix for the hell of it. He wondered if her earlier appearance was simply a facade or if she had become increasingly pissed off in the past two hours somehow. Most content gallery owners do not order drink after drink after a successful show. Alone. In a bar in the bad part of town.

"Sakura, think you could show some of Deidara's stuff in your gallery one day? He's alright, I can vouch for him.' Sasori suggested. Sakura raised an eyebrow and Deidara turned to face his friend in fury.

"I don't need your fucking hel-"

"Let me see your stuff." Sakura replied. "If it's anything as refreshing and new as Sasori's, I think I'll be happy to display some of it. I'm sick of landscapes. What have ya got to show me?" She inquired with a wink. Deidara had to admit, she was charismatic. Even while looking depressed and tired as shit she managed to grab Deidara's attention. Her hair may have been a bit extreme, but he couldn't complain with the way it brought out her eyes.

"I work with clay, un."

"So you're good with your hands?"

"Exceptionally good with my hands, un."

"I think I'll be the judge of that." She spoke between long gulps of her latest drink. She said it with such ease that Deidara doubted she meant it to be sexual at all. Or was she just jaded? The blonde had his doubts and questions but kept them all to himself. "Take me to them."

"To what, un?"

"Your work. Where's your studio?"

"In my apartment..." Deidara trailed off with embarrassment. Fuck. She would think he was a bum, like everyone else. Even if she was comfortable with coming to this shit bar alone, he doubted she would follow him through his hell hole neighborhood in order to see a few pieces of his work.

"Let's go." She spoke, hopping off her stool with ease. Deidara looked at Sasori with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face. Sasori made no eye contact with his friend as he took another swig of the nearly empty bottle of Jack. Deidara shrugged with a sigh. He reached into his pocket for his wallet when Sasori shook his head.

"It's on me. Go on, see you later. G'luck." He offered a pat on Deidara's back before turning to his phone to return a text message most likely sent from some exotic booty call met through a gallery function or auction or what not. Deidara saluted his friend, grabbed the pinkette's wrist and dragged her through the bar to the red, glaring exit sign. A few familiar looking men pat him on the back or smacked his ass on the way out, but he shrugged them all off. Granted, he was taking an attractive woman home with him. But, it was to show her some of his art pieces. Then again, wasn't that always the pick up line he used?

"You driving or me?" She asked, making eye contact with him for the first time. He didn't own a car.

"You, un." He replied, wondering what kind of car she drove. His eyes rolled as she unlocked her Mustang GT. Of course. What was he expecting?

"Hop in." She spoke, hands already shifting gears. The inside of her car was absolutely meticulous, though he couldn't say he expected anything less. It still smelt somewhat new, but he was unsure as to whether or not she just bought the vehicle or had a hanging scent hidden somewhere in the dark depths of the black leather. "Where do you live?"

Deidara mentally cringed. This woman was going to be majorly sketched out, he was absolutely positive of it. "Downtown by Patty's Deli..." He explained briefly. She cocked an eyebrow and quickly shifted into first gear. They kept their eyes straight on the road when she suddenly chuckled.

"Sketchy, huh." She commented.

"It's what I call home, un."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Sakura did remember Sasori mentioning his friend in conversation here and there, and she did remember hearing him saying how he was immensely talented but seemed to have no desire of selling. She always wondered why a talented artist would want to keep his beautiful work hidden from the rest of the world, but artists were often very, very strange people, as she had learned very quickly in her line of work. Most were not dependable, or burnt themselves out very quickly. Many turned to drugs or alcohol to ease whatever pain they happened to be feeling. A small group of peopled were truly 'blessed' with talent, but an even smaller group managed to live with the talents they possessed.

Sakura made a few playful comments and suggestions here and there, as her fowl mood was shifting to a cheerful, optimistic one again. Getting some more work in her gallery would be terrific, especially if it was a new, unheard of artist. Not to mention clients absolutely ate up local artists. She could feel a wonderful deal approaching her and couldn't help but feel a bit giddy about it, and it certainly showed in her attitude.

Deidara, on the other hand, was feeling more and more embarrassed as they approached his apartment. The woman was obviously pretty wealthy, and probably lived in the nicer part of town, with countless luxuries that anyone could live without. She probably wiped her ass with diamond encrusted toilet paper. He was confident in his art work, of course, but he wasn't quite sure if Sakura would completely understand it. Him and Sasori got along well enough, but their views on art often clashed and were the cause of countless pointless arguments. But, Deidara knew he couldn't miss out on a new deal, especially at this point in time. Getting some artwork sold would mean getting money, and hopefully some commissions or steady clients that he could use to his utmost advantage.

They pulled onto Deidara's street while he pointed at an open parking spot across the street from his apartment. Sakura parked with ease, though Deidara could tell it was faked and she probably prayed to every god she knew that she wouldn't bump the curb or the cars in front or in back of her. They hopped out of the Mustang and Sakura clutched her purse and keys with a death grip as she followed Deidara inside the apartment. The walls were beat to shit and the wallpaper was peeling, revealing bug-eaten wood behind the faded covering. The ceiling was cracked, and Sakura was positive that the apartment was in violation of at least a dozen living and health violations. She shrugged as she realized she wouldn't be here for long, especially if the sculptures didn't live up to her expectations.

They climbed up to the seventh floor as Deidara fumbled with his keys. She wondered what each one opened, seeing he seemed to be able to afford one apartment, and didn't own a car. Her jaw dropped as he pushed open the door. The apartment was small, no doubt. But the walls were an array of different colors, probably used for mixing and blending to perfection. Certain portions seemed to be thick and textured, while others appeared to still be a bit wet and not quite dried yet. But what truly blew her mind was the amount of art work Deidara had piled up in his apartment. From a first glance, anyone would believe that he was a art hoarder of some sorts. Countless paintings were thrown around the apartment; only one or two lined the walls. The colors were meticulously blended and seemed to radiate off the canvas. What were even more incredible were the sculptures. Some were painted and some were left to their clay, earthy, natural colors.

Most of the clay creatures were birds from different states, countries, even worlds and universes. Each feather seemed light and aerodynamic, and Sakura was stumped as to how Deidara had not managed to be discovered yet.

"These are all yours?" She asked, absolutely stunned. A phoenix rested in the corner with it's huge, powerful wings outstretched; ready to fly away at any moment.

"You betcha, un." He replied with a slight smirk. She was impressed and he knew it.

"How many of these do you have?" She inquired, motioning to the bird sculptures throughout the room. Deidara thought for a moment.

"Maybe... Twenty? I have a lot of small ones too, un. Those were more practice than anything else." Sakura was still in awe as she made her way carefully through his apartment.

"I need these in my gallery, Deidara. What do you want for them?" She asked, eyes still fixed on his work. Deidara's eyes wandered to her body as she slowly removed her jacket from her body. A green dress was molded to her petite body, tight in all of the right places. He had the urge to say he wanted her and only her, but that didn't seem like a very good business plan for himself at the moment, even in his somewhat tipsy state. And he was pretty sure Sasori would have his ass over it.

"Maybe we could set up a trial period to put some of your stuff in the gallery... Perhaps five pieces at a time over a month or so... Mostly sculptures and a few paintings here and there. You know what I would really want to see you try, though?" Sakura turned to face Deidara as he was still oogling her body. He nearly blushed and directed his eyes right into hers.

"Yeah, un?" He breathed, half in a trance.

"You sculpting a person. Anyone, really. Your eye for detail is fantastic, I'd really like to see you try one, now that I think about it." She replied, eyes bright and grinning ear to ear. All signs of her previous depression had disappeared completely. Deidara pondered for a moment, bringing a cigarette to his mouth. It dangled as he pulled out a lighter.

"Let me do you, un." He spoke at last. Sakura's eyes widened in confusion.

"Uh... I'm flattered and all, but uh you see that uh I have a boyfriend at the moment and..." She trailed off, repeating herself at certain points and eventually stopping all together. Deidara scoffed.

"I meant to sculpt you, un. Relax, chickadee. I wouldn't want to taint you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She spoke, hands on hips, eyes challenging his. He smirked.

"You seem like a lovely, pure cherry blossom and I'd want you to remain that way. But to sculpt you, I need to really see you. And get a good feel for your body. You know, un?" Deidara spoke, inching closer and closer to her with every syllable he mouthed. Sakura scowled.

"Bring it. I bet you can't sculpt me for shit." She challenged, not backing down against the tall, fit man across from her, just inches away from her own body.

"If I can?" He led her, wanting to know what he could gain from this wager. He pressed his chest against the top of hers, hoping to intimidate her in some way, shape or form. He was sadly mistaken as she pushed back against him.

"You name it." Sakura replied with a smile and a wink. "But if you can't, you have to work at my gallery for as long as I want. And I have the right to display any one of your paintings or sculptures whenever I feel the need to. Deal?" She questioned, reaching a hand out. Deidara took it, shaking it long and hard.

"Deal, chickadee. But you're not going to be happy with my sculpting process, un." Deidara warned her. Sakura had a feeling she was about to be violated on several occasions in the near future, but as long as her dear boyfriend didn't find out, what would it matter? He had blatantly ditched her tonight, anyway.

"If it's for art, I can deal with it. I'll do whatever it takes if it means me getting a new kick ass piece for the gallery."

Suddenly, both of their moods had turned a 180. A beautiful deal was in the making, and more than a beautiful sculpture would be the result of it.


	2. Let the sun never blind your eyes.

Sakura hovered above her kitchen counter. I am fine, fine, fine, fine, she repeated to herself out of habit. She counted to 100. Her nails tapped against the granite counters. Sakura had always dabbled in anxiety, sometimes hitting a few bumps of depression in the road, along with compulsive habits and an addictive personality. She knew she was heading for an absolute mental and emotional breakdown, and soon. She didn't know what to do. Her years of therapy were thrown under the bed amongst coverless books and hoped to be forgotten. She thought for a moment, pondering if lighting a smoke would do her any good in this situation. She decided it would. To the roof she went.

Her boyfriend tipped her off last minute about going out of town for a business trip. She half expected this to be a blatant lie and assumed he was face-deep in a pair of fake tits. This way, if she was right, at least she wouldn't be too disappointed. A flame emerged from her lighter, igniting the cigarette in an instant. She breathed a few curses as a harsh wind blew her way. Her cell phone vibrated, the title MOM flashing on the screen. Call ignored.

Her mom called every few days, wanting to "catch up" and talk about what was new and who wore what and who was together with who. Sakura knew the only point of these calls was for her mother to feel good and semi-involved in her grown daughter's life. And to find out if a. Sakura was getting married yet and b. when she was going to start popping out some kids. Sakura doubted the latter would happen and certainly prayed that the former wouldn't occur anytime relatively soon. Sakura didn't necessary love or hate her significant other; she was comfortable in the relationship, but not much else. The burning passions of her teens had faded fast and she was left jaded and bored. There was no more excitement or spunk or surprises. The relationship was what is was, and Sakura was comfortable. But too comfortable, she had sunk into the bland daily rituals of "how was work", "how was your day" "let's grab dinner" "love you" "love you too". Boring. Boring. Boring. Boring.

And Sakura was beginning to realize just how comfortable she had become.

/

Deidara woke up the next morning surprisingly happy. He wasn't all too surprised that he was happy, he was more surprised that he had slept through an entire night. Usually he was unable to fall asleep without the use of heavy medication (which he could no longer afford), or abuse upon abuse of booze. He slept with visions of dancing sugarplums, or more appropriately, pink-haired chicks and lots of clay. The ultimate wet dreams of an artist: medium and boner-inducing inspiration.

Ideally he would have liked to get started on his latest project immediately, but alas. He needed quite a supply of clay which he did not possess at the moment, along with some money to purchase said clay. Which meant he was either prostituting for the night (preferably not), selling something, or working and not buying alcohol with his entire pay check. Prostitution he would save for when he was truly in need. He took out his flip phone and dialed back a recently missed call. He talked for a bit, hung up and looked around his apartment.

He was going to have to clean up a bit for his first customer.

/

Deidara opened the door with a smile chiseled on his handsome face. It did not suit him. "Welcome, come in, un?" He spoke quietly. The warmth in his tone was fueled by gasoline, not natural wood. The woman entered, returning his smile and welcome. Politeness is terribly dull.

"So," Deidara began. He wanted this to be over with as soon as possible. He generally hated people, and paying customers were absolutely not an exception. "You were interested in buying a sculpture?" He met the woman's eyes, looking through her to the clock her big, obnoxious, annoying head was blocking.

"Yes! Sasori had raved about a few of your pieces, and a few sounded like they would fit into my new house just perfectly!" The woman spoke quickly and efficiently, not missing a beat. Maybe this wouldn't take quite as long as he expected. He'd be able to take a smoke in a half hour, tops.

"Follow me, un." He spoke, leading her into the next room. The walls were freshly painted a dull, mature color Deidara hated. They would be dirtied with paint and clay in a week and he couldn't wait a minute longer.

"I was told you did a lot of birds, which is exactly what I'm looking for." The woman subtly looked Deidara up and down, but he wasn't oblivious enough to not take notice. He inwardly sighed. Tramp. He didn't have time for this. "Preferably a phoenix..."

"Right, un." Deidara brought her to the far side of the room, where his proudest piece perched with wings spread, ready to take flight. His baby, his one and only, his soul mate was about to leave him so a dumb, rich bitch could tell her house guests about how long the artist took to make it and how his hands cramped and laugh and flip her hair in utter euphoria as she inhaled another martini her personal bartender freshly made. "This is what you're looking for." Colors radiated from the creature's figure; this was where the rainbow ended.

"It's perfect!" The woman's eyes only looked over the master piece for a moment until her gaze reached Deidara's. She stepped towards the blonde. He stepped back. "What do you want for it?" Her tits seemed a bit too prominent for a simple meeting with an artist. "I'll pay in cash." And her jeans were just a bit too tight to match. Deidara smiled.

"Twenty, darling. Took a long ass time to make, un." The woman was unfazed. She nearly laughed.

"Just that? You got it, babe." A wallet emerged from her name brand Italian leather purse in an instant, an assembly of cards lining the inside and bills spilling out of the insides. She handed him thirty thousand dollars and grabbed hold of his arm before he could escape into the safety of his man-cave. She took a step closer to his lean frame, leaving Deidara trapped between her and the wall. She leaned into his ear, tickling it with her warm breathe and sweet nothings she rambled into every crevice and crater.

"I don't think this is appropriate... un." Deidara began, squirming away from the woman's touch. Her eyebrow cocked.

"Darling, you need to relax. Let me rub your shoulders. You can take off your shirt if you want... Lay on your bed, let me take care of you." She insisted, pulling on his arm again. The blonde huffed.

The woman was attractive enough, Deidara just didn't feel like dealing with some broad's bullshit at the moment. What seemed like a quick fuck turned into dozens of texts and phone calls and showing up to his house in the middle of the night crying about how he was an asshole for never talking to her again. Not worth it.

"I gotta go. I'll deliver the sculpture to your house tomorrow, un? Text me your address. You know where the door is..." And with that, Deidara slipped into his bedroom and locked the door. The woman's sultry facade disappeared and was replaced with rolling eyes and a loud huff.

"I'll be back." She uttered before slamming the door a bit too loudly. Deidara waited for a moment to make sure she left, and when he was positive the crazy woman was gone, he bolted to the front door to lock it.

"Crazy bitch..." He mumbled to himself before dialing Sasori's number. The phone rang twice before he heard a voice on the other line.

"Yes?"

"The fuck, un?"

"Yes?"

"Who's the crazy bitch!"

"She's alright."

"Fuck that, un."

"Did she try to fuck you?"

"Yeah."

"That happens sometimes."

Deidara rolled his eyes. Sasori always had the strangest connections, especially when it came to women. He had never, never met a normal girl through the red head, and he was convinced odd people were drawn to Sasori, and vice versa. He had been friends with the puppet master for a very long time and he could hardly consider himself normal, so the assumption was fitting.

"Did you fuck her, un?"

"Might have."

"Sick fuck."

"You sell?"

"Thirty thousand for the phoenix, un."

"Could have gotten more, dumb ass."

"I don't even care. Money is money, yeah. I'm happy she's out."

"Still gotta deliver it, pretty boy."

"Fuck."

And with that, Deidara hung up. Sasori may have been a sick fuck, but he did make a major sale. And women certainly like to talk... Which meant he would be having more horny, crazy ass women showing up at his door, handing him their money and dignity. They were all the same.

He grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot he had brewed before the crazy bitch arrived. Black as his soul, just the way he liked it. He grabbed a cigarette and his trusty lighter and headed outside. His jeans were a bit too ripped and dirty for his own liking, but he didn't have the time or patience to run his favorite pair through the wash and hang them to dry. Deidara brought the cigarette to his mouth and lit up. His stress and worries were exhaled with the smoke from his lungs.

Deidara thought for a moment before dialing a number on his phone, grinning when he heard the voice on the other line.

/

Sakura didn't know what she was supposed to wear. Jeans? A skirt? A dress? Nothing? She opted for black skinny jeans and a silky, pale blue top. Nude pumps gave her legs some extra oomph, even though her lean, muscular legs didn't necessarily need it.

Deidara had asked her what she was doing that night. She answered honestly, saying absolutely nothing. Had she sounded sad? Lonely? Bored? Regardless of how she sounded, the man had asked if she wanted to do something. Sakura replied honestly again: yes. So, here she was. About to knock on his apartment door with a nearly finished cigarette dangling from her lips. The door answered before she had a chance to raise her fist.

Deidara met her sea foam green eyes, a smile playing upon his face. "Come in, un?" He spoke, gesturing for her to enter his house yet again. Sakura smiled and stepped inside. The apartment seemed different this time... Cleaner. More... Boring. She didn't like it. It didn't seem very Deidara-esque.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" She asked, flinging the cigarette out of a nearby window. Deidara found this action nearly irresistible. He couldn't help himself from grinning again.

"Doing a little research for my sculpture of you." Deidara began, looking into her confused eyes. "Follow me, un." He grabbed a pack, a lighter and his wallet. She followed him without a question.

/

Deidara had somehow managed to lead Sakura to a seemingly popular club. She turned to look at him before making their way inside. Somehow, for whatever reason, popular clubs didn't really seem like his kind of place. He rolled his eyes at her look while grabbing her hand and led her to the bar.

"How is this helping your sculpture at all?" She inquired as her date for the night ordered them rum and coke. "Diet coke for me, please!" Sakura yelled to the bartender. He gave her an understanding nod.

"Fuck diet coke, un. And I need to see you relaxed, yeah? Not in business-lady mode? So have a drink and let loose. For me." Deidara spoke with a wink, taking his cup and downing it in an instant. Sakura shrugged and followed suit.

"Anyway," He began, ordering another drink for the two of them. "I want to see you dance, un." Sakura's jaw dropped.

"Me? Dance? But... Why?" She tried to spit out before Deidara downed his second drink and handed Sakura her cup. She looked at him, the drink, and back at him. His face seemed hopeful and eager. She down the drink and followed his lead onto the dance floor. She hardly knew what to expect as the upbeat, fast songs blared in their ears.

Sakura was surprised with how easily Deidara seemed to be moving and flowing; he appeared almost graceful for someone who had just slammed two drinks. She began rolling her hips to the beat and caught a nasty look Deidara threw a nearby man checking Sakura out.

"Sorry, cherry, but you're my partner for the night, un." He spoke in her ear, grabbing her hips and turning her around to have her back against his chest. Sakura almost gasped as he moved his hips at an impressive speed, catching her off guard.

"Is this an excuse to feel up my ass?" She inquired with a coy smile, almost yelping as she felt his hands reach for her bum.

"I don't need an excuse for that, un. But good try." For a seemingly antisocial artist, Sakura was floored by his charm and smoothness. She could feel herself getting more and more into the music and dancing as she let his hands roam over her body; from her ass to her hips to her midsection and, finally, to a playful squeeze of the tits.

"Woah! I have a boyfriend you know..." Sakura teased, only half kidding. Deidara returned his hands to her hips.

"But you're not with him, are you?" His utterly true statement struck a chord somewhere in her being. He was right. Her shitty boyfriend had ditched her yet again... So here she was. Dancing with some guy she had only met once before. Whose hands touched her in ways her boyfriend hadn't in quite some time. And she absolutely was not complaining.

"I need another drink." She replied, tugging his collar all the way to the bar once more. "Shot?" She asked. Deidara grinned from ear to ear and nodded his head. "Two shots of Jack, please!" She called to the bartender, breasts spilling out from her top. Deidara rolled his eyes yet again. The girl knows how to get what she wants. Which reminded him...

"To art!" He toasted, clinking his shot glass with hers. He placed a large bill on the counter and motioned to the exit. "I have better shit at home, un. Let's go. We can even discuss work if you want, chickadee." Sakura laughed.

"Okay. But no talking about work."

/

As they finally made it to his apartment, Deidara felt exhausted. But. He had a spunky pink-haired hottie on his arm, and he wasn't looking to disappoint her. Not tonight. Not while her boyfriend was mysteriously missing. He unlocked the door with ease and ushered her inside.

"Most of my shit is in my bedroom, un." He mentioned, leading her into his dark room. When he flipped the switch on, Sakura was hardly surprised. While the rest of his walls were painted over a boring, respectable color, the walls of his room remained splashed with an assortment of colors, and doodled with countless sketches. She liked it. A lot. He pointed to a cabinet in the corner, and when she opened it she was also hardly surprised.

"The fuck are you saving all this for?" She asked, gazing at the countless bottles. He shrugged.

"Pick your poison, cherry, un." He smirked when she popped open the new handle of Pinnacle Whipped. "You are such a girl, un." He teased before taking a sip. He motioned her to do the same, and she followed his lead without hesitation. When she looked around for a chair to sit in, he patted on his bed.

"Sit." Deidara commanded. She obeyed. He stretched across the length of the bed, arms sprawled out, looking at the back of Sakura's figure. He watched her put her hair up with utter amazement. She had a nice bone structure, and for once he was seriously thinking about his assignment. An odd thought crossed his mind and he acted upon an impulse.

Deidara brought his mouth to Sakura's unknowing ear, quickly licking the outer ring before speaking in a whisper. "You're bone structure is bangin', un." Sakura giggled, taking another sip. She quietly leaned back on the bed, laying on her side, facing the blonde. A strand of hair escaped her pony tail. Without a moment's hesitation Deidara leaned in to push the strand behind her ear, when the two somehow found themselves kissing into the other, tugging onto each other and finding themselves too close for comfort. Sakura found herself straddling Deidara, and Deidara found himself not complaining in the least. His hands squeezed her in familiar places, finally finding peace on her tight ass.

Sakura felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, and without thinking twice she threw it onto the floor, not even bothering to look at the name blinking on the flip phone's screen: SASUKE with a heart next to it.


End file.
